Something To Bother With
by Downton Addict
Summary: Cora is feelling like she has more to give and nothing and no-one to give it to. Robert is frustrated by Cora and feels he was not wrong to be upset in London - them getting over this if they can
1. Chapter 1

Robert could feel his steps slowing as he approached the house. It wasn't a conscious action, rather a sub-conscious response to the unpleasantness he had felt in his home since their return from London. His surprise had failed, backfired, gone awry and since their return to Downton things had been … strained. At first he had been frustrated, it wasn't his fault really. It had not been he who had been out to dinner with another woman after all. To him he had been perfectly justified in being upset. Mr. Bricker … idiot of a man … had taken his wife out, alone, at night … the absolute nerve. Yet Cora had said the whole thing was completely innocent. He knew it had been, at least to her. He could see it on her face the moment she had walked through the door at Rosamund's. He knew she would never do anything as ill bred as cheat. He knew she loved him as he did her. That was not the problem. Just as he knew Cora would never stray he also knew that Mr. Bricker was not merely interested in discussing art with Cora … and that is where the trouble had started. In hindsight he could have chosen his words with more care, but he had been upset. Ok, he had been mad. Mad at Bricker and mad at Cora's complete lack of understanding … she truly believed Bricker was interested in her opinions on art. The naivety of it was maddening. She had absolutely no thought that he was interested in her, in her delicate face, in her porcelain skin and her lithe body. Maybe Bricker did find her art opinions of interest, perhaps he did enjoy talking to her, but he also wanted to take her to his bed and Robert knew that without a doubt. Maybe if he had worded his response in a different way … but he hadn't and he couldn't go back and change it now. It wasn't as if they had fought since they had been back and there lay the problem. They hadn't fought over it. Things had gone on as usual, just with a strained air about it and he could feel Cora's unhappiness suffocating him. It was almost as if she had given up. She told him he didn't value her opinions and he had tried to apologize for his response and that had been it. They spoke, they had dinner together, they slept in the same bed, and yet he could feel the sadness and disappointment rolling off her in waves and he couldn't make it better. It had been nearly 2 weeks of a constant black cloud; he had almost begun to envy Tom with his office away from the house wishing he too had a convenient excuse to leave. He wondered, not for the first time if Mary knew, because he couldn't continue to live this way and had to figure out a way to change things.

"Mi'Lord." Carson's voice interrupted his thoughts as he walked through the front doors of his hone and felt the air thicken around him.

"Hello Carson" He responded out of habit and kept walking towards the stairs. He had walked rather longer than usual and he was not sure of the time. Turning at the stairs he called out to his faithful butler.

"Carson, where is Lady Mary?"

"I believe she is in the library My'Lord. Nanny has just bought the children down."

"Yes of course she has. Thank you Carson."

Cora would be with the children, she always made herself available when the children were out of the nursery. He didn't want to see her quite yet, he didn't much feel like being greeted by the smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, or suffer through another conversation where she avoided eye contact with him and spoke little. He couldn't do it. He would simply have to seek Mary out at another time. Without hesitating he turned and climbed the stairs to his room in much the same state as he had been since that awful trip to London …alone.

"What kept you darling? You missed the children." Cora asked Edith casually as she pulled the dead flowers out of the vase in the foyer and handed them to the young maid at her side. "That will be all. Thank you." She said to the young girl … Emma? No, Emily … yes it was Emily. Fairly new to the house and a pretty young thing. Probably no more than 20 and still scared to death of having to talk to the family, which caused Cora to be extra gentle with the poor girl;, and keep her away from Violet at all costs.

"I was out Mama." Edith's tone was clipped and she kept walking at a swift pace towards the stairs. There was something troubling Edith, had been for quite some tine and for the life of her Cora could not figure it out. At first she had assumed it was Michael Gregson … presumed dead, but now she wasn't sure. Now this commitment with the Drewe's little girl was border line obsessive. She worried. Reaching out her hand she placed it gently around Edith forearm squeezing comfortingly.

"Darling are you alright? What is the matter?" Cora could see it on her daughter's face that things were not ok and her heart hurt for her. Poor Edith, so unlucky in love and so much to give.

Edith shook her mothers hand off her arm and hurried to the stairs."I don't want to discuss it Mama. It's nothing to concern yourself over."

And just like that she was gone, up the stairs and out of sight.

Cora stood in the foyer her eyes at the stairs and her heart in her hands. Did no one in this house think she could offer an opinion on anything? Did no-one think she had any insight to offer? She expected it almost from her children, that was their job wasn't it, to challenge their parents and find their own way. But it was all too painful a reminder of the words Robert had spoken to her more than once "nothing to bother you with" … as if she was a child, or a moron, an idiot, someone not worth the time of the explanation. Then to follow up with that he had made his thoughts on her opinions abundantly clear that night in London. If accusing her of carrying on with Mr. Bricker wasn't enough he had told her that in no uncertain terms would Mr. Bricker be interested in her opinions.

She had been so disappointed it had kicked the stuffing out of her and she had felt it difficult to get back. She felt herself lost and apparently unwanted by her husband, by her children, even the staff didn't need her input while under Mrs. Hughes's watchful eye.

In the early years of her marriage there had been so much to learn, so many calls to make and committees in need of a young Viscountess with money and time. Then the children had come and she had been busy with the nannies and the social calendar of a young aristocratic family … and then Robert's father had died. They had become the Earl and Countess of the county and there had been so much to do, then the African war and with Robert gone she was busy with the house and the girls and the worrying as her constant companion. When he returned it was back to the business of raising their girls and the presentations at court and the season and the house … then the war, her miscarriage first and then the war – and she had been thrown into the running of Downton as a convalescent home and so much with the war effort and the support of the county and the girls kept busy and worrying all the time about the young men at the front and the girls and their tender hearts. Then it was over. Everyone was so happy and she had been too – then she was almost dead from the Spanish flu, and there were marriages and then Sybil died … and part of her too … and life was about healing and getting Tom and Sybbie settled and then Matthew … and life was about getting Mary back and little George … and then Michael Gregson disappeared and Edith was distraught. All the while there was the house to run and the Pamuk business, and Bates's trial, and the money lost, and the fire and Rose's presentation and O'Brien's abandonment and the dinners and her mother and Harold, and the letter and the Prince … and somehow, somehow she and Robert had always found themselves back in each others arms and making their way through things together. She had managed the house alone when he was gone, she had dealt with more issues with the girls than she could count, she had planned great events and headed committees and entertained the people he had wanted her to. She had worked with his mother to find a way around the entail and keep Downton in the hands of his own children, she had smoothed over arguments and conversed with politicians and kings and business men alike. Yet still, despite all this, despite all the years she had given him, all the years she had been there for him he could not bring himself to share with her items of business. Whether he thought her too feeble minded to understand it, or whether he just didn't care for her opinion she was not entirely sure. But she was sure that it hurt. It hurt her a great deal to know that her husband did not want to talk to her about anything of substance. He could lay her down and make to love to her all night long, touch her in the most intimate of ways, make her quiver beneath his fingertips and bite her lip to keep quiet, he could kiss her breathless and enter a room with her on his arm … and that was all there was. She felt like his prize. A possession to be displayed. She knew she was older now, knew she was not the great beauty she once was, but she thought she was aging well and held her years with dignity.

She had so much more to give if she just had something to give it too. She wanted to feel needed, to use her mind, to have a purpose again – was that so much to ask? She tried to tell Robert. Tried to give him the chance to help her and he had brushed it aside. Then when Mr. Bricker wanted to know about her opinions why would she not give them? Then Robert had to go and destroy even that. Not only did he insinuate that the dinner with Mr. Bricker was more than an innocent meal, but he had made it clear that in his opinion Mr. Bricker was only interested in an affair and not the things she had to say. That is what upset her the most. That not only did Robert care for her thoughts or opinions, but he believed no one else did either. If Robert was to be believed she was only useful as something pretty to look at and someone to tumble between the sheets. She had never felt as defeated as she had when she returned from London. It made her want to cry. It made her want to scream. It made her angry. It made her want to prove to Robert that he was wrong and that she was more than he thought.

Making up her mind Cora turned on her heal towards the front door. She stopped in front of the telephone and picking it up waited for the operator.

"Operator? Yes, Charles Blake please. London."


	2. Chapter 2

"Why is he coming here?" Robert reached for his drink and threw the remaining half glass of liquid down his throat. He had been in a foul mood since Edith had told him Charles Blake and Simon Bricker were going to be at Downton for the next 3 days. He had taken himself out for a walk to stop from bellowing in the house. He'd wanted to confront Cora about it, ask her why, read the expression on her face when he mentioned Mr. Bricker's name, and let her see his. But he had been a coward. He had not bought it up after breakfast when Edith had told him, and he had avoided his wife with purpose for the rest of the day. He was mad. His pride was hurt. More than that he was frightened of what she might tell him. Did she have feelings for Bricker? Or was she naïve enough to believe they had a friendship based on a love of art? Or … did she want to hurt him? The sound of Mary's voice bought him back to reality and he turned to face her.

"I'm sure I don't know. Charles Blake is here too, so that will be interesting." Mary looked up at her father from the settee upon which she had perched. He looked tired. He looked … she couldn't figure out what he looked like precisely, only that she hadn't seen him look that way before.

"Interesting? Why? I thought you had decided on Gillingham?" Robert asked as he moved toward the mantle over the fire.

Mary shrugged her shoulders absently and quirked a lip in that way of hers, "I haven't decided on anybody. But things were left a little awkwardly last time Mr. Blake was here so … interesting is the right word." Casting her eyes towards the closed door she quickly returned her gaze to her fathers and spoke again, "Papa, while I have you alone I want to speak with you. You need to pay more attention to Mama." she saw her father roll his eyes and turn toward the fire place, arms placed on the mantle as if supporting himself. "Please." Mary continued, "She has been awfully glum since your return from London and I know your surprise did not go well."

A loud huffing sound escaped Robert's throat and he turned back to Mary, the irritation showing on his face.

"So she told you about London then? How that is my fault I do not know. _I _wasn't the one out all hours of the night with another person. _I_ was left waiting half the night with nothing but a scotch and my thoughts for company. _I_ wanted to talk about it when we returned home … but apparently _I_ have been dismissed. It seems _I _am not as interesting as Mr. Bricker."

Mary's eyes flicked to the door again before she stood and joined her father by the fire. He was speaking quite loudly and even though they were alone that could change at any moment.

"No, Mama did not tell me what happened in London, but I did caution you that surprises are not always the best idea." At this her father made another huffing sound. "Papa, whatever is happening between the 2 of you it is up to you to do something about it. Mr. Bricker is nothing to Mama … nothing at all, you have not been 'dismissed' … but anyone with eyes can see that Mr. Bricker showers attention on Mama, and a woman of that age can feel neglected I am sure …"

"That age? Whatever do you mean by that?" Robert interrupted.

"I mean, Mama is hardly the girl of her youth any more and as the years go by and the youth fades a woman could easily feel ignored, or forgotten about. I'm just saying pay more attention." Mary concluded as she raised her eyebrows as if to drive her point home.

"Yes, thank you Mary. I have been married to your mama for 34 years now; I think I have this in hand. And you will do well to keep your comments on her age to yourself. I know of no other woman of our entire acquaintance that has 'aged' with as much grace and beauty as your mother." As if forgetting himself momentarily Robert added, "She is more beautiful now than the day I married her."

Leaning closer to her father Mary placed her hand on his arm, "Say that to her."

The sound of the door opening accompanied by voices broke their moment and Mary turned with a smile to greet their guests. Mr. Bricker, Mr. Blake, and Cora all entered, followed by Rose. Cora's eyes crossed straight to the fireplace where they locked momentarily with Roberts. He fought the sensation to look away, rather he concentrated on intensifying his stare and held her eyes fixed on his even as Mary joined their group. Mr. Bricker made an attempt to speak to her and still Cora's gaze held with his and for that moment he felt like a King. She looked stunning. She always did of course, but tonight she looked especially beautiful, Baxter must have done something special with her hair and her dress was very fetching. He felt smug as he thought that he knew what her flawless powder white skin looked like underneath all those layers, and Mr. Bricker did not. He would never know as long as Robert drew breath.

"Cousin Robert." Rose had joined him at the fireplace and the interruption stole his gaze briefly. When he turned back to look at Cora she was already in conversation with Bricker, and their moment was gone.

Dinner had been awkward to say the least. Ms. Bunting had been there and Robert had been put on edge as he always was by her presence. Then she had not just crossed the line but sailed right past it and Robert had exploded. She had been embarrassed by his outburst; they'd had guests after all. She was more embarrassed _for_ him than _of_ him. He had lost his composure and she knew he would be upset with himself over it. As she had watched him storm out of the dining room she had 2 overwhelming emotions run through her. The first was to run after him, tell him he was alright, that she was on his side, to protect him and make him feel better. The other had been to throttle Sara Bunting. She had never been Cora's favorite person, a poor follow up to Sybil, an overly opinionated piece of goods – yet she was Tom's friend, and Cora loved Tom. She had tried to encourage Tom in her direction because he seemed to like her so much, but now she feared she had made a mistake. It was yet another thing she and Robert would fight over and it made her mad. Of course Cora was a lady. Well bred and unable to do either of those 2 things. Taking a deep breath she had concentrated her iciest glare at Ms Bunting before returning her attention to the table. Edith and Violet had begun a new conversation in an effort to get the party moving along. Cora loved them for it.

Cora had wanted to talk to Robert about the scene at dinner. Had played the hostess for the evening and seen their guests fed and entertained before retiring to her room. She had wanted to tell him that she was not upset with him. That she was understood his frustration and that she knew she was one of them. She had wanted to have a real conversation with him, and then he had come into the room with his guard up and telling her what he believed her opinion was. It had struck her once more in that sensitive part of her that felt he did not care for her opinions at all, and now had begun to tell her what her opinions were. She was once again defeated by him. He did not care to know what she really thought or felt on the subject. He did not care to ask. He did not care to converse with her and it hurt her more than she could put into words.

When would things change? Was this the way their marriage was to be now? She knew as all long married people know that marriages change over time. People change. Their marriage had gone through highs and lows, sometimes they had been blissfully happy, other times they had been lost to each other. Now, as Cora sat at her desk looking through the drawers for the letters she promised to show Mr. Bricker she was thinking of her marriage in the cold light of day. The more she thought of the state of things between her and Robert the more her stomach clenched in response and her heart palpitated. It frightened her more than she had let herself admit. She loved Robert. She always had, even when they had fought and disagreed through the years she had loved him. Even after his performance at the dinner table last night she loved him still. Yet things between the 2 of them scared her. This was not an argument they were having. This was not something someone said in anger. This was different. This was her coming to realize that her husband did not care for her opinions; he did not need to know her thoughts and would never ask. This was fundamental. This was not something that an apology would change; this was something that she didn't know would ever change. Could she live that way forever? Before she could consider the answer to that question the door opened.

"Lady Grantham, at last I have found you. Shall we begin the look at the letters in question?"

"Of course Mr. Bricker … I should be delighted." She said as she stood, leaving her thoughts behind her, at least for the moment.


	3. Chapter 3

She hadn't even bothered to find him this morning. The thought irritated him in ways he knew it shouldn't' He had behaved terribly the night before and then even worse when he climbed into bed in a huff. He should have apologized to her. He should have spoken to her about it, but his damned pride was in the way and he couldn't find a way around it. Bricker had monopolized Cora at dinner, made her laugh, been blessed with her smiles and Robert was ridiculously, over the top, out of his mind jealous. He was jealous of that spineless prick and he couldn't find his way to tell his wife that. Then that horrid Miss Bunting had kept on and on with her horrendous opinions and went as far to tell him what she thought he thought … it was too much. He knew he had been foolish, knew he had behaved badly … but he was just so damned jealous and irritated he could not see straight. At least he had apologized to Tom. At least he had smoothed that over, but that was easier, he loved Tom … but Tom certainly wasn't his heart – that was Cora … and he didn't know how to be with her anymore.

His mother had asked him if he flattered Cora and asked for her opinions and he had told her yes, but the truth was he couldn't recall the last time he had done so. Was that the trouble? Was that really it? He knew how much it had bristled him when Miss Bunting had assumed his opinions for him last night, but Cora knew that wasn't how it was with them. Surely. Even if she didn't know was that any excuse to carry on with Mr. Bricker? Could the man be any more obvious? Robert had every right to be upset. He was his wife, His … and by God he would make sure Mr. Bricker and Cora for that matter remembered that rather important fact.

He could hear Bricker in the room professing how beautiful the painting was and it made him roll his eyes. Yes the painting was lovely, but the man was rather overdoing it wasn't he? As he approached he heard Bricker express to Cora how beautiful she was. Ever part of Robert stopped still and he held his breath. What would she say in response? Good God … he thought he felt the very beat of his heart cease as he awaited her answer and he leaned forward slightly hoping to hear it.

"You mustn't say things like that." She said with a laugh. Robert felt his body resume activity, his breath came back in to his body and his heart beat again as he moved to enter the room. She hadn't accepted his forwardness, nor had she rebuffed him, she had been a Lady, elegant and tactful. He hoped with all his being that she had acted that way in order to spare Bricker's pride, and not merely out of habit. If she felt something for that man … Robert didn't know what he would do. That wasn't even something he wanted to consider. Until now he had always thought of Bricker as the only interested party in this 'friendship' of theirs, but what if Cora was interested in Bricker in return? What would he do then?

He had walked in and interrupted before he could find out. Before Bricker could finish whatever the hell he was going to say to his wife. His. Robert's! Not Bricker's. Bricker could bugger off back to London and never come back as far as Robert was concerned.

After a short conversation between the three of them Mr. Bricker excused himself leaving Cora and Robert alone for a moment. Neither of them said anything for several moments. Robert pretending interest in the painting Cora and Bricker had been studying. Gesturing toward the piece of art Robert asked quietly.

"So this is the painting he wants to compare?"

Taking an awkward step forward Cora responded with a nod, "Yes. The Della Francesca."

"Hmm." Replied Robert peering closer to the work in question. He liked art as much as the next fellow, but an art scholar he was not. Cora liked them, had taken him to numerous art shows over the years and insisted on the frequent and proper cleaning and care of the pieces they had Downton. She probably knew exactly how many pieces of art they owned, Robert only knew the estimated value of their collection. He stood up straight and turned to Cora to find that she was looking at him as he looked at the painting. His heart leapt in his chest.

"Do you know anymore about it yet? Was it the study as you thought?" he flickered a glance at the painting and then back to Cora's face that showed surprise at his interest.

"Well, we are not sure yet." She began, her face positively lighting up as she spoke, "Mr. Bricker says it is such a close representation of brush strokes, and then I was able to find the letters the Earl's mother sent him and that helped to confirm the dates of purchase. It's been rather fascinating Robert. Mr. Bricker is terribly knowledgeable."

"I'm sure he is." Robert replied dryly. He saw Cora's face fall at his comment and felt like a cad for ruining the best moment they had had together since London.

"Robert." Cora's voice came out in an exasperated sigh, "I do wish you would try to like him, he is a nice man, he is very clever, I'm sure you would like him …"

"No Cora, I am sure I would not. I do not usually tend to like men who are trying to seduce my wife, in my own house!" Robert regretted it as soon as he said it but he couldn't stop it. He would never like Bricker. He would never like being treated like a fool.

"Robert!" Cora's exasperation shifted to anger, "He is doing no such thing!"

"Oh is he not? Good God Cora are you blind?!" Robert's voice was forceful, yet controlled.

"So now I have no opinions worth hearing and I am also stupid as well, is that it? You really ought to work on your people skills Robert." Cora turned to leave, tears stinging her eyes as she walked toward the open door. She heard Robert's footsteps behind her, felt his hand grip her arm and spin her around to face him, heard the door slam shut as Robert's other hand pushed it closed. The speed and force with which he was able to complete these actions startled her and she gasped.

"That is not what I meant. But you and I both know, hell Cora, the entire house knows that Simon bloody Bricker is not here to see our _Art_, he is here to see you. He flatters you, and he flirts with you and for the love of God you flirt back." Robert's voice was low, hoarse and dangerous. His face was close to hers and his hand still gripped her arm as he walked forwards, forcing her back.

"Robert! I do n …" Cora felt her back hit the door with a forceful thud and yet Robert continued his forward approach until he was directly in front of her, the heat of his body radiating onto hers and his thighs close enough to touch hers through their clothes.

"You can not deny it. It is clear as day. The question is … do you flirt because it is fun, or do you do it because you want him?" Robert could not believe the words coming out of his mouth. He could not believe that he was asking her. He really didn't want to hear her answer – he as afraid.

"You are…" she began to respond and Robert stopped her with his lips. He pushed her arm above her head and held it there as his lips found hers in a heated embrace, his tongue immediately plundering her mouth as he wanted his body to plunder hers. He leaned his body against hers and ground his hips into her skirt with a carnal force he felt radiating through his body. He had already responded to her nearness, to his thoughts of her, to the sensation of her lips as they moved against his. Oh god – she was kissing him back. The surprise that he felt as she welcomed his advances caused him to let go of her arm and he felt both her arms slide around his neck and pull him against her. She sighed out loud as he slid his lips from hers and down neck slowly. Biting softly as he went, caressing her tender skin as he worked down one side of her soft throat, his hands going instinctively to her hips pulling her core tighter towards his giving her the unmistakable feeling of him through their clothing. He heard her moan, felt her grind against him in response, enjoyed her hands slide down his arms squeezing his muscles. Returning his lips to her mouth he devoured her. Kissing her with wild abandon, loving the feel of her, caressing her body with his hands. God – he missed her. He wanted her. She was his, not Bickers'. His.

"You. Are. Mine?" he ground out against her lips. "Not his. Mine!" He pulled away and began a trail of kisses down the other side of her neck and felt Cora stiffen at the same time.

"What did you say?" he heard her whisper as her hands found their way to his chest where she placed them palm down against his broadness.

"You are mine. He can't have you Cora. He can never have you." He had reached her collar bone and nipped at it with devotion. He loved her skin. She was so creamy. So beautiful – and she was pushing him away from her. He stopped still and pulled his lips from her skin standing up straight to look at her. She was angry.

"Is that what that was Robert? Marking your territory?! God that is so insulting!" she pushed against his chest but he held his ground unmoving.

"Cora." He started but she cut him off.

"You show no interest in me for weeks, you don't care to talk to me about anything of interest, you think my friendship is some kind of affair and then when we finally connect again – you do so to claim your property. How could you?" she shut her eyes to keep the tears from falling and pushed hard against his chest. He did not move. Several seconds passed.

"Move Robert. Let me out of here." She said firmly.

Robert couldn't believe it. He thought she would love to know that he would fight for her. That he wanted her. That she was his, as he was hers. He was disheveled, disappointed and confused. What had gone wrong? Had the mention of Bricker reminded her that she wanted someone else? Robert stepped back slowly as Cora pushed against him. His mind was swirling. He watched as Cora's hand moved for the door handle. She was leaving? That was it? He felt the words come out of his mouth before he had the chance to think about it.

"Would you have stopped Bricker if he had done that?"

He heard the crack. He expected it after he heard his voice form the question. His head moved to the side in response to the blow he felt as her palm landed against his cheek. She had never slapped him before. But then, he had never given her cause – until now. By the time he turned his face back to face the front she was gone, he was left staring at the closed door in front of him, with the sinking feeling that he may have just destroyed the only thing he ever truly cared about.

The next sound he heard was his fist slamming into the door, he felt his knuckle crack beneath his rage filled punch. Realizing the physical pain drowned out the pain in his heart he punched the door again, and again, until his heart stopped hurting.


	4. Chapter 4

"Will there be anything else My'Lord?" Bates asked, his tone kept even and free of inflection as always. It had not been easy to keep his manner aloof and reaction free as he had dressed his Lordship tonight. His right knuckles were red and swollen and there was a small cut above the middle one, obviously that spot had born the brunt of his blows. Bates had kept his face impassive as he had bought up the ice bucket and bandage. Had not asked what had happened or looked at the wound longer than was necessary, but he was curious, and concerned. It was so out of character for His Lordship to be involved in any kind of altercation, yet thanks to the gossip of the hall boys he knew it had been a one sided fight with the door. Carson hastened to explain it was an accident, the door having already been removed in order to begin the repairs … but Bates knew. He wished he didn't, but he knew. He would do the same, had done worse when it came to his wife and he knew a man on the verge when he saw it.

Forming a fist and extending his fingers slowly, testing out the damage and movement beneath the bandages Robert did not look up. Eyes on the clean white bandage running along his knuckles and wrapping around his hand. The ice had helped ease the pain some, the bandage removing the injury from sight, but damn his hand was sore now and his movements restricted. It was his own fault. He had replayed the scene in his head over and over and over since it had happened and he could not escape the painful truth that it had been his fault. He had had her in his hands – literally – and let her slip away with his foolishness. His slapped face and damaged hand merely physical reminders of the pain he felt everywhere. He was loosing her, and it was his own doing. How had it come to this? Things had been fine. Hadn't they?

"My'Lord?" Bates questioned, unable to leave until dismissed.

"No Bates. Nothing else." He looked up briefly giving his long time valet and friend a brief smile he did not feel. Reaching out for the bucket with his good hand he held it towards Bates, "Take this with you would you, I wont be needing it anymore."

"Very good My'Lord." Bates made his way to the door and was about to open it when the question stopped him.

"Bates? How did you fix things?" Robert asked quietly, thinking back to when Anna had moved back into the house for a time. Bates had stopped at the door, back rigid, and turned slowly to look at him.

"My'Lord?"

"With Anna, when things were … not good for that time. How did you fix things? … Only, you had said it was your fault and not hers." He shouldn't feel awkward about this, this man was his servant and a friend and he was the master of the house. He should be able to ask whatever he liked, but he did feel strange about it. As if by asking for help he was admitting that he had failed.

"I have no right to ask of course Bates, but, well I am sure you can tell that things have been …. That Her ladyship and I have … I am a stupid fool Bates. How do I fix it? … I don't know who else to ask." He let out a sigh and moved to the window and looked out.

"Damn it Bates … I don't know what to do." It was with great effort he kept his voice from cracking. Saying it out loud had taken more of a toll on him than he had thought.

Clearing his throat Bates stepped into the center of the room and rested the ice bucket on his hip, "Oh well that was a very different situation My'Lord and I wouldn't know what to tell you." Thinking for a minute he readjusted his cane and the slowly melting bucket of ice, "I can say however that marriages, when 2 people really love each other – as you and her ladyship, forgive my saying so, obviously do, are always benefitted from talking to one another. Even the most intelligent people miscommunicate, and if I know anything about women My'Lord, it is that they like to feel as though they are heard."

Lowering his head to look at his snuff boxes he let out a small sound of agreement before looking up at Bates. "Yes, of course. Quite right. Thank you Bates."

By the time he entered Cora's room she was already headed for the door. She was leaving without him, he would rather she slap him across the face again than do that. Stopping at the sound of his entrance she turned around to face him. Her eyes immediately finding his bandaged hand. Had she heard? He wasn't sure who knew what exactly, but Carson had hurriedly had the evidence removed and was busily explaining below stairs that an 'accident' had occurred. Cora would never buy that, she was too smart for that.

"Does it hurt?" she asked impassively. Well at least she was speaking to him. He nodded in response and extended his fingers out and in again trying to keep them from getting too stiff.

"I'm sure I will have rather a bit of bruising, but nothing seems to be broken." he stood in his space without moving and looked at her. She was not happy. Her face was fixed in a strained expression and her eyes lacked their usual vitality. He felt guilty for being the cause of it.

"Good." She said evenly.

He let out a breath, "Yes, I shouldn't much like a broken hand…"

"I meant good that it hurts." She looked up at his eyes when she spoke and he felt a chill run up his spine. She had every reason to be mad at him, they both knew it. "For God sake Robert … how childish can you be? You didn't get your own way so you threw a fit."

"Cora …" he started slowly but she spoke over him shaking her head.

"We do not have time to go into this now. We have guests for dinner, all of whom I am sure know by now that you attacked the door. Carson is working over time to smooth things out; your mother will be livid … so please, do us all a favor and be on your best behavior tonight. I can't handle any more of your tantrums right now." Before he could respond she opened the door and left him.

He had kept mostly to himself all evening, but at least he had not had any outbursts, arguments or altercations. She could at least be pleased with that. His behavior of late was so very unnerving. He had always been a stubborn man, someone who disliked change and thrived on order. She loved him for that really. They had always managed to balance each other – but that man's damn pride was insufferable. It was never enough what she thought of him, he had to have the official position or the title to make him feel like he mattered. Perhaps, she had thought more than once that there lay a fundamental difference between her American upbringing and her husband's English one. She didn't care for the title, just the end result. She could happily give up being the countess of Grantham as long as was always just Robert's wife. That had always been the difference between them, and sometimes she wondered if the difference was too much to overcome.

Yes, he was stubborn, and proud. So proud. Too proud. It was now after 2am and her husband's ridiculous stubborn pride had kept him from bed and caused her to worry. He needed to go to bed, hers or his she really didn't care as long as she knew he was safely tucked in then she could go to sleep herself. She had lain awake for hours telling herself she didn't care if he drunk himself into a stupor in the library. Had told herself it would be his own damn fault if he woke up with a throbbing head as well as a throbbing hand, if his hand didn't heal properly because he refused to rest it. If he fell asleep in the library disheveled and hung-over with the servants all looking on. But she did care. She cared, and she loved him despite his awful behavior. So she had finally flung back the covers, pulled on her dressing gown and slipped downstairs to find him.

She found him sitting in front of the fire, drink in hand, tie undone, Isis at his feet. He looked up as she entered the room, the light of the dying fire the only light in the room. Even in the fading light she could see the surprise of her presence register on his face and he stood quickly, too quickly and he stumbled forward a few steps before reaching to steady himself against the mantle.

"Cora" he slurred. He was drunk. Not blind drunk, but decently drunk at least.

"Robert come to bed it is very late." She crossed her arms under her chest as she felt his eyes move to her body and she sighed.

"Which bed?" he asked moving his eyes back to the fire. He wouldn't watch her face when she said it. He couldn't take the disappointment any more.

He heard her let out an irritated breath before answering and it put him on edge. "Honestly Robert, I don't care. Just come to bed."

"You don't care." He shook his head at the fire as he let the words marinate. Looking up at her he saw her turn her face to the side in irritation. By God she was beautiful even when she was mad. Stepping towards her he repeated her words again.

"You. Don't. Care! … God Cora … how can you say that? You don't care! **I **care! Damn it to hell Cora … I care!"

Her face flicked back to face his and she saw the anger and hurt written across it as he walked closer to her again. He was standing in front of her, 2 feet between them and the irritation rolling off him was enough to make her catch her breath.

"Would you tell _him _that you don't care? Would you say that to Bricker? Or just me? Just your husband of 34 years!" he saw her flinch at his words and she resisted the urge to slap him again. Again! Again with Simon Bricker!

"Oh for crying out loud Robert. Enough! Enough of Simon bloody Bricker and you thinking I have feelings for him … it is ridiculous, it is insulting, it is unbelievably untrue and you need to bloody well stop it!" she had raised her voice in anger and planted her hands on her hips as she spoke. She was sick of his insinuations and constant scrutiny. When would he believe her? When would he listen to her?

"Are you telling me you can't see that he wants you?! Because he does Cora. He does. Of course he does, he would have to be blind not to." Robert turned his back on her and walked back to the mantle in frustration.

"Who cares? Who cares? Who cares if he wants me? I certainly don't … even though I don't agree with you … who the hell cares? He can't have me. I don't want him! It is completely irrelevant. Why can't you believe in me Robert? Why can't you trust me? Even if the King of bloody England wanted me he couldn't have me because I am yours! I have always been yours! Why can't you get past this and see that?" Cora's arms flew about in frustrated energy and she wanted desperately to beat upon his back, and throw furniture and rant and scream and make him hear her. To listen to her and see sense and understand her.

Whipping around Robert turned on her taking 2 large strides towards her before shouting his reply. "Because I am jealous! Plain old fashioned jealousy Cora. You've heard of it before?!"

Taken aback Cora stepped forward until she was a breath away from his face. "Jealous?" her whispered response bought his own volume into a more reasonable level.

"Yes! Jealous! Jealous that Bricker get's your smiles, jealous that you laugh with him and that he interests you. Jealous that you would rather have dinner with him than me…"

"I didn't know you were there Robert!" she replied, exasperated that she had to explain it yet again.

"I'm jealous of him. I'm jealous on the way he looks at you and the way you look at him." Robert pressed on.

"But I don't look at him any way, I don't ..." her protests were lost as Robert continued.

"You look at him like he interests you. Like you used to look at me … and it makes me angry and unreasonable and primal and jealous and I hate myself for it, and I hate him most of all." Robert reached his good hand out and made to touch her cheek but stopped himself a hairs breath from her face. He wanted to touch her, but he wanted her to want him to and it clenched his stomach and made him feel ill.

She let out an unsteady breath and closed her eyes softly, a small tear escaping down her cheek as she opened them.

"Robert." She barely breathed his name, her voice was soft and quivered under the strain of speaking, "I talk to him because he talks to me. If I could choose anyone to talk to in the whole world, it would be you. If I could laugh with anyone in the world, it would be you. If I could have anyone look at me … like they want me … it would be you. God Robert. It would be you, always you … but you don't." Her voice cracked and she choked out the last words before turning and running from the room, "You don't."

As if she held the only light and warmth in the room the fire obediently gave up its last remnants of life and extinguished as she left Robert alone.


	5. Chapter 5

On the one hand he was thrilled. She had said last night that she was his, that she had always been his, that she didn't care for Bricker … he should feel like a kid on Christmas morning and yet he didn't. He was plagued with the memory of her face, and her tears, and her words as she fled. She wanted him to talk to her, ask her questions, make her smile.

What had Mary told him? Pay more attention to her.

What had Bates said? Women like to feel like they are heard.

What had his mother asked him? Do you ask her her opinions?

The answers had been given to him over and over again and he as too clouded by jealousy to see it. It wasn't even Bricker's fault really, although he could still go ahead and bugger off out of his house and away from his wife. It was his fault. Robert's. He had stopped asking Cora about things. Stopped considering her, flirting with her, showing her just how much he needed her and loved her. The irony was not lost on him that this had all come about after his anniversary speech to her – a toast extolling her virtues and how wonderful she was, and yet he hadn't followed up on those words with actions. Flexing his stiff, bandaged hand he grabbed his hat and walked out the front door to the waiting motor. He hoped there was still time to mend his mistakes.

She was definitely distracted by the previous evening's events. She and Robert had had it out in the library and she was both tired from lack of sleep and constant thinking. She had replayed his words over and over in her mind and they continued to surprise her. She had not realized that Robert was jealous. It sounded silly even to her that she would have missed it, but she had thought his behavior was based on something else, but not jealousy. Pride at losing control of his wife, irritability at Cora taking interest in other things … but jealousy? Did he not know that the world began and ended with him as far as she was concerned? Had they not weathered enough storms for him to know that she would always and forever be his and he hers? She had wondered at his thoughts on Mr. Bricker as well. Did he really have feelings for her as Robert thought? Yes, she knew he was a flirt, he had called her beautiful and asked her to dinner, but he knew she was married. Happily married. Devoted. Didn't he? Wasn't that obvious? Or had time and years changed her that she no longer exuded love and marital commitment?

She had been lost in thought on this subject as she had taken a break from the house and their guests and walked through the garden. This was their last night here and she was glad that they would finally have the house back to normal and a chance to talk things over with Robert. She feared perhaps they were suffering from an acute case of miscommunication, neglect and bad timing. She could forgive jealousy. Jealousy came from a place of love and meant that Robert was so in love with her that he was driven mad by it. There was still the deeper issue, he didn't care to hear her opinions or talk to her about anything of substance … but if they could get over this jealousy, get rid of their house guests and have the chance to really be together a while perhaps she could express this to him in a better way.

"Lady Grantham. It looks as though it is true, if ye seek ye shall find." Simon Bricker's voice was cheerful and warm as he approached her amid the rose bushes. She smiled at him and greeted him kindly studying his face for any evidence of the amorous feeling Robert was sure he had for her. She couldn't tell. She had spent 34 years married to the same man, and as a result other men were not her forte.

"Yes Mr. Bricker I do agree, I also seek out the garden quite frequently. I find the flowers and the fresh air … for lack of a better word, refreshing." She smiled brightly at him, and then remembering Robert's words from the night before tamed her smile to a lesser degree. If he really did think that way about her, best not to encourage it.

"Of course I agree with you Lady Grantham, but I am afraid you mistake me. I was not seeking the roses, but time with you, naturally." He bowed courteously before her and fell into step at her side. His statement made her feel awkward all of a sudden as Robert's words rang in her ears. _He wants you. He would be blind not to._

Cora smiled as dismissively as she could and stepped to the side to create a little distance as they walked. "Mr. Bricker, you mustn't say such things. You may give people the wrong idea."

"I don't much care about other people Lady Grantham, just you." He smiled conspiratorially at her and winked. They were clear of the rose bushes now and Cora was relieved to see nanny and the children walking along the path to their left. Before Mr. Bricker could say anything more Cora alerted his attention to the children and expressed her need to join them.

"I have been trying to talk to nanny all day. Please do excuse me Mr. Bricker; I would so hate to let this opportunity pass me by."

"Till this evening My'Lady." He smiled and raised his hat to her. Returning a quick smile at him she left and walked quickly to join the children.

It had been cowardly to leave Simon Bricker alone on the lawn this afternoon, in hindsight she didn't really think he had meant anything by his words. He was just a flirt, and he was being friendly and charming, but he would never think anything would happen. She was a grandmother for heavens sake, married for over 3 decades, a lady … no, Robert was mistaken and she had tainted their interaction with Robert's fears and ruined a perfectly good afternoon in the process. She had avoided Simon Bricker for the remainder of the afternoon feeling uncomfortable around him alone. Instead she had curled up on the chaise in her room with a book – being a terrible hostess and now as the dinner gong rang feeling guilty about it. A soft knock on her door alerted her to Baxter's presence and she called out for her to enter. As she stood up from the chaise and folded her book closed she looked up at the door and exclaimed in surprise.

"Oh. It's you. I thought it was Baxter. I … what are you doing?" she could not recall when she had last been so surprised. She fiddled with the book in her hands but kept her eyes on him.

"No. I am definitely not Baxter. I hope you are not disappointed?" he took a few more steps inside and held his breath. Please don't be disappointed.

"No, of course not I … the gong was just rung and I assumed … you are a welcome surprise." She walked toward her bedside table and laid her book there before coming around to meet him in front of the bed. Stopping a few feet away. He was chewing on his bottom lip, she knew he had something to say, and if he didn't hurry Baxter really would be there. "What are those?" she smirked gesturing to the bouquet in his hands. A beautiful array of her favorite flowers wrapped in paper and tied with a silver ribbon.

Extending them towards her he smiled softly, "They are an apology. The beginnings of an apology. They are for you." As if she would think they were for someone else you dolt. Standing in her room, arm extended, probably looking like a naughty puppy dog … get a grip of yourself man.

Nodding her head slowly Cora reached out and took them from Robert's hand bringing them to her nose and smelling softly. "What is the apology for Robert?" She asked, knowing perhaps she would not get the answer she was looking for but desperate to at least try.

He took a step closer and closed his eyes as he gathered his thoughts. "Cora, I …"

"Excuse me My'lady. Mr. Carson has rung the gong." Baxter announced as she walked in the still open door. Robert rolled his eyes in frustration at which Cora stifled a giggle.

"I will be ready in just a moment Baxter, if you could take these and arrange them in a vase and bring them back up. Thank you." She said cheerfully handing the flowers to her ladies maid. As if reading her mind Baxter closed the door behind her on her way out.

"I just bought you 10 minutes Robert. You were saying?" she quirked her head to the side and looked up at his face. He was struggling with this, but she loved him so much for trying.

Clearing his throat Robert picked up where he had left off, "Cora. I. It seems. … God" he ran a hand through his hair and let out a frustrated huff, "You know I am not good at this kind of thing, I rehearsed a speech on the way home but now I can't think straight. It's … Cora" he began again. Cora struggled to keep her face straight. Apparently this rehearsed speech had begun with her name as he kept coming back to it. "Cora, I feel I need to apologize for a few things. Of course the first is being so overcome with jealousy. I trust you of course … Mr. Bricker I do not know, but you I know and I know you would never betray our vows. I … I … it seems." He let out another muffled breath and he closed the distance between them, picking up her hands in his and holding them. Somehow the touch of her helped settle him and he pressed on. "Cora, I have not been a good husband to you of late and for that I am sorry. I can see how happy you are when Mr. Bricker talks with you, and at first I was jealous and angry, but now I see that it was not him you were enjoying but rather the chance to be asked about things of importance and the chance to offer your thoughts and opinions. I fear I have not been very good at that and I am terribly sorry … darling. I do appreciate your opinions, I feel as though you offer them without my even needing to ask and perhaps that has been my mistake but I promis …"

"You can stop digging darling, you have already struck gold." Cora laughed and smiled brightly at her husband.

Letting out a long breath Robert gave a quick smile of his own, "Oh thank God."

Not letting go of her hands Robert lifted her left and then her right hand to his lips and softly brushed his lips across each giving a tender kiss, receiving a smile in return and feeling rather proud of himself in the process. "I am your humble servant madam." He smiled as he leaned closer and sealed his apology with a gentle kiss against her lips.

Dinner had been quite jovial, the tension almost gone between Cora and Robert and their guests on their last night were happy and chatty. Even Violet was energized causing Cora to wonder what was causing the change in her mother in law and considered the Russian prince as a possible candidate. Just Edith remained rather downcast and Cora could not shake the feeling something was off with her.

Everyone had said goodnight, the evening having been the best one she had had in a long time. Robert and her were … recovering. Everything wasn't quite fixed yet, but she looked forward to talking with him some more and making up in all ways possible. Mary and Mr. Blake had seemed to get along rather well this evening and Mr. Bricker had been pleasant and perfectly respectable. After what seemed like forever things were seemingly back to normal. She had been about to call for Baxter when she realized her diamond earring was missing. Given her maid's history she didn't want to put either of them in the awkward position of looking for missing jewelry and had quickly gone down to retrace her steps to look for it. Having found it under the chair she had been sitting at cards she made to leave the room only to turn around and walk straight in to Mr. Bricker.

"Oh. Good heavens excuse me. I nearly bowled you over Mr. Bricker." She laughed as she moved to step back in order to move around him and exit the empty room. Why was he there? He had retired long ago. Wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her close Bricker answered with a smile.

"You did bowl me over Cora … from the moment I met you. I am quite taken in by your charm and your beauty. Everything about you is absolutely divine." He leaned in pressing his forehead against hers and she squirmed in response. She placed her hands on his chest and tried to push him away, but he wrapped his other arm around her in response and held her close.

"Mr. Bricker. You forget yourself. I am married!" Cora wriggled against him and pushed against his chest to no avail. "Mr. Bricker, let me go!"

As if her words were an invitation instead of reproof he nuzzled his cheek against hers and breathed in her scent, "I knew you would smell good. Do you know how hard it has been to resist you? To wait for the right time? To know for sure that you wanted this?"

"But I don't want this. Unhand me Mr. Bricker or I shall scream. I shall scream the house down." Cora struggled and moved underneath his grip, yet she had never felt so vulnerable. He was strong. Much stronger than her and she could not get free. A tear pricked her eyes as she realized in horror that Robert had been right, she had been a complete idiot, and now she was paying the price.

"You don't have to fight it anymore. We can have a secret you and I. I would never betray your trust." Leaning down he moved his mouth over hers and hovered above as she twisted her head from side to side to avoid his kiss. With all her might she struggled pushing against his chest, her legs failing to find his shins as she tried to kick him. She could not let this happen. How was this happening?

"No! Mr. Bricker No! Let me go please!" the last of her words was muffled as his lips found hers, but only for a moment. Then he was gone. The suddenness of it threw her off balance as he had been holding her so roughly and she fell to the floor. Her head fell back with a loud crack and she felt dizzy. Her eyes were blurred in front of her as she took in the scene. Voices. Loud voices and a cracking sound. A figure in front of her … Robert? … No … Tom?

"Oh God, Cora. Are you alright?" his hand was grasping hers, his other helping her to stand. What was that? More loud voices in front of her.

"Leave her alone! Get out of my house!" Crack! … oh God …

"Robert!" she screamed his name as he landed another punch against the jaw of Simon Bricker, and as if the punch had landed on her own face it all went black as she collapsed in her son in laws arms.


	6. Chapter 6

"Yes, thank you Dr. Clarkson. I am so sorry to have dragged you out so late." She smiled sitting up against her pillows in bed before reaching for the glass of water and taking a small sip. Everything hurt. Her eyes burned in her skull, her head throbbed, her bones ached, and her pride was shattered. Robert had been right … more than right about Mr. Bricker and now they were in a giant mess and it was all her fault. She had flirted. She had been foolish and craved attention. The old adage came flooding into her brain causing her to cringe – _People who play with fire are bound to get burned._

"Not at all Lady Grantham. Head injuries can be rather tricky. Thankfully you seem as alert and oriented as ever. But if you should feel more dizziness tomorrow, or suffer the blurred vision again please telephone at once. As I explained earlier, you will probably have rather a headache in the morning." He smiled kindly at her before catching the eye of Lady Mary and Lady Edith, both gathered in there mothers room. They would need to watch her closely for a few days and he was glad they were present to hear the instructions.

"I have rather a headache now." She said as she managed a small smile.

Dr. Clarkson said his goodbye's and headed downstairs to see his second, and perhaps more injured patient. No-one would give him the exact details of what had occurred at the Abbey that night, nor did he truly need to know. But he had arrived a little after midnight only to pass a rather tall gentlemen leaving as he had entered. The man had looked disheveled and sported a swollen lip, a raging black eye and the smear of a hurriedly cleaned bloody nose. Now the Countess lay in bed with a mild concussion and he was going to the library to treat the Earl's hand. Mr. Carson had taken him straight to his Lordship when he arrived, but the man had sent him away insisting he see to his wife first. Although Lady Grantham had suffered a concussion and apparently lost consiousness briefly, she seemed completely normal now and he was not overly worried. She had a good bump in the back of her head, which was a good thing … the blood was bruising outward and not into the skull. She would have a headache, nothing more. He had however seen the swelling if His Lordships hand before seeing to Lady Grantham, the mass of bruises and the slight change in appearance that he assumed to be cracked knuckles and perhaps a broken finger or 2. His mind was definitely reeling at the cause of the injuries … but he could only conclude something along the lines of the defense of The Earl's wife. He would not ask more though … curiosity had as they say killed the cat.

Back in Cora's room Mary and Edith kept up a soft and persistent upbeat conversation. Apparently the injury Cora had sustained was keeping both of her daughters from their true character of just coming straight out with it. Cora closed her eyes gently, feeling the pain once again as the thought 'both daughters' … not 3, washed over her. _Sybil._ The pain came quick and without warning every time. She had gotten used to it for the most part, not over it, but used to it. But in her weakened and already emotional state the thought of Sybil pierced her strongly and she felt the tears begin to fall hot and quickly before she could reign them in.

"Mama? Are you alright? Shall I get Dr. Clarkson?" Edith moved towards the door as if to run for the poor, tired, should be at home in bed Dr.

Cora shook her head slightly and opened her eyes. She saw the concerned faces of her 2 daughters, the confusion in their eyes, the need to help, the desire to know what was happening, but mostly – the love. Her broken heart began to fill again and she wiped at the tears as Mary placed a handkerchief in her hand. She knew they loved and missed their sister too. She knew they, all of them, mourned Sybil to this day – would forever. Now and then they would share a memory or talk about her in some way and they would all share in the joy of her memory, in the sorrow of her loss. But sometimes, most times, Cora kept it to herself. Her own private grief. She and Robert had shared in it, but even then, she suffered from a mother's grief … and she kept it to herself. The pain a welcome reminder of the daughter she lost. Not wanting to share it Cora pushed it aside and wiped at her tears once more.

"I suppose you deserve an explanation." Her voice was shaky but strong.

"You don't have to Mama." Said Edith, at the same time as Mary spoke. "Yes I believe we do."

"Mary!" Edith turned to look at her sister in shock.

":Oh Edith." Mary rolled her eyes and arched her eyebrows, "Honestly, when there is a late night brawl, followed by a guest leaving and the Dr arriving … I think we are entitled some information."

"He left?" Cora asked sitting up quickly, the movement making her head throb causing her to lean back against her propped up pillows again.

Edith and Mary exchanged a sideways look before Mary answered.

"Yes. Mr. Bricker left just before Dr. Clarkson arrived." Taking a breath and sitting up straighter Mary pressed on, "Mama … we do love you so, both you and Papa … and we are aware that there has been some …"

"Tension." Edith offered helpfully.

"Yes, tension." Mary continued. Cora smiled softly, how like her daughters to be at odds one minute and in kahootz the next. "That Mr. Bricker was involved, and now obviously Papa has hit him and he has left in the dead of night. We love you – so very much, but we do need some information, our minds are running wild."

Cora sat up slowly this time and adjusted her pillows. She leaned against them and smiled at her daughters. .

"How strange that you are old enough to sit here asking me questions about my marriage. I never thought this day would come…" Cora laughed softly, "I love your father very much, and I love you both as well. However, your father and my marriage is our business and we will handle it. I will admit this evening has been strange, suffice to say Mr. Bricker made some advances towards me, uninvited and unwelcome I will add, your father and Tom intervened and I fell and hit my head. What happened next I am not sure. But I will tell you that I have not now, not ever strayed from my marriage vows and your father and I will figure this out. Aside from that … it is not your concern." Cora settled her sternest look upon her grown daughters.

"Well" Mary said with a smirk, "I think we were just dismissed Edith."

Sometime later Cora was surprised to hear a knock at her door. It had to be past 2am, and despite the head injury and the excitement of the evening she could not sleep. She had not seen Robert since everything had happened. She had passed out and had not come around until several minutes later as Tom had carried her into her room, Edith hot on his heels and the sound of Mary flying down the stairs to call the Dr.

Dr. Clarkson had told her he had seen Robert briefly and that he would see to his hand after seeing her. Mary had let slip that Mr. Bricker was gone, but that was all she knew. She had long since sent the girls to bed after they tried to get information from her, and truthfully she would have been happy to explain more to them except that she did not know what to tell them.

This evening had started so well. She and Robert had spoken, had been on the way to making things better, he had apologized and the tension was all but gone … and now this.

He knew that she had not welcomed Bricker's attentions didn't he? He knew that she had been struggling beneath his grasp? What had that looked like from Robert's point of view? Had he reacted out of defense of Cora or out of anger at perceived betrayal? If only she had been conscious during the fight, during the aftermath. She had a few choice words for Mr. Bricker, now that he was gone she doubted she would ever get the chance to deliver them. She wanted to know how Robert was – physically? Emotionally? She had tried to stand up once the girls had gone but had quickly returned to bed. She was too unsteady to go walking about the house. So she had waited, flicking through a book, not reading, watching the clock and waiting. Waiting for Robert to come in. To find out what damage she had done to her marriage.

The knock on the door sounded again and Cora sat up a little more, fixing the pillows behind her. She must look a fright, but there not much she could do about that.

"Come in." she called out as cheerily as she could. The door opened slowly and the light brown hair of Tom's peeked through the door, followed by his eyes, nose and face.

Cora felt her smile fade in disappointment as she wondered once more if Robert had gone to bed in his dressing room.

"I saw your light on and wanted to see how you were? Headache?" he asked concerned as he entered the room and walked to Robert's side of the bed and stood, the door left ajar.

Cora nodded slowly, "Yes I'm afraid so. Dr. Clarkson thinks I will be fine but the headache may linger … I really hope not." She smiled weakly at him. Why wasn't Robert there?

"I remember when Sybil got hurt in that election fight, god I was so afraid. She said she had a headache for the entire day after. … I guess that isn't very helpful." He laughed gently at himself.

"Anytime you talk about her is helpful to me." Cora offered a real smile and looked away from him for a moment. "I am glad you are here Tom, I wanted to thank you for what you did tonight."

"It's nothing. I am glad I was able to help. I'm just pleased everyone is ok." He said with his warm Irish smile.

Cora turned her head to face him again, "Is he ok? Really?"

Tom nodded quickly, "Yes. He is …"

"Then where is he?" Her voice cracked as she asked the question and embarrassment washed over her. Here stood her son in law. A kind and a good man, who not only witnessed her flirtations, but saw the result, helped her when she was in need, and now she had to ask where her own husband was. How had this happened? How did it come to this? She didn't even know the location of her own husband.

"Cora … I…" he began, but Cora shook her head.

"It's ok Tom, I should never have asked you. I should not have put you in that position it's just that …" her voice trailed off and she looked at her hands.

"Cora, I …" Tom began again.

"Please Tom, it's ok. It's just. This is all my fault you see." She looked back at him and watched as he shook his ahead to disagree, he opened his mouth to speak but Cora kept going. "I have been quite ridiculous. I let Mr. Bricker flirt with me, I enjoyed the attention and if I am honest with myself I probably flirted back a bit. It made me feel wanted, and needed and important … when I usually feel quite the opposite. But I never … I never thought anything would come of it. Not even once. Not at all. I … I never felt anything for him at all, and I assumed he was the same as me – just flirting to be daring. And Robert told me too … he told me Mr. Bricker had other intentions and I didn't believe him. I did this. I didn't want it but I did it. It is my fault and now Robert is injured and probably can't bear the sight of me. How did I let this happen? How could I have been so stupid?" Cora looked away as she felt the tears begin to fall. "I'm sorry Tom." She added softly, embarrassed at her confession and emotional outburst. She had been sure it was Robert at the door when Tom had arrived, been sure she was finally going to get the chance to talk to him and find out where he stood on this, where they stood. The waiting and the dissapointment had been too much and she had unburdened herself on Tom.

"Cora … I am sure that no-one would blame you for any of this. Least of all Robert." Tom said gently.

"I'm not so sure." Cora said between the tears.

"I am." came his voice from the doorway. The voice she knew so well, had known for 34 years. She turned to the door in surprise. Her mouth caught in an expression of question and hope. There, standing at the entrance if her room stood her husband. Hand wrapped in layers of bandages, the corner of one eye bruising a little, hair messed and a drop of blood on his collar.


	7. Chapter 7

Tom had made his exit in one fluid motion, closing the door gently as he left a small smile on his face. "It's about time." he mumbled to himself as he walked the hall back to his room. His room. In his home. How strange it was that Downton Abbey had become his home, the Crawley's had become his family. The irony was clear of course. Had Sybil lived he would never have grown so close to her family, never considered them to be his and he theirs – but he did … and that was all she had every wanted after all. To believe that the lines of society could be crossed, that her family would accept him as she had, that the world was a better place. Despite himself, despite the strangeness of the evening and the circumstances of his being there to begin with he found himself smiling in earnest.

"Tom is even more intelligent than we thought." Robert let out a laugh as he looked at the door then back to the bed where his wife sat, propped against pillow, resting.

"Not me." She replied quietly, "I have always known how smart he is."

Robert walked around the bed and sat on the edge on Cora's side, his bandaged hand resting in his lap. He felt as though he had an extra heartbeat drumming its painful tune through the veins of his hand, his knuckles obscurely numb and painful at the same time. He smiled morosely at his wife's comment.

"Of course you did. You always see the best in people." He looked up to see Cora's face and her eyes still glassy from her tears. Tonight had taught him how lucky he truly was in her. How much he had come so close to losing. How bad things had almost gotten. How much harder he had to try. He had walked down the stairs after they had all gone up because he had needed one last look at the builders for Pip's corner. He had seen Tom in there as well, the 2 of them having the same idea and had taken a few minutes to look through the papers one last time, neither of them able to settle on the builder they had chosen. As they had made their way back to their rooms and walked through the foyer they had heard it. Cora's voice. The fear. The desperation. He had heard the expression before, 'your blood ran cold' but had not understood it until that moment. His blood had turned to ice in his veins as he put together what was happening. He had moved towards the door in time to hear her voice begging to be released. To see her struggle beneath his grasp, to see him take her lips with his. He had crossed the room in a frenzied haze. Grabbed him by the back of the neck and thrown him across the room with a violence he had not known he possessed.

Even in the war. Even in those moments of fighting other men in battle he had not felt like that. In those times he always knew his wife was safe and out of danger. But tonight, tonight he had lost control completely and attacked Bricker with the entirety of his force. He had not even seen Cora fall backward. Had not seen her black out. For that he was ashamed. He had followed Bricker where he lay on the ground and pulled him up by his lapels, shaking him and yelling at him. He had drawn his fist back, heard Cora scream his name, and then landed his first punch. It was a blur after that. Bricker had got one or 2 good ones in, but Robert was stronger, more athletic, filled with more rage and had overtaken him, pounding him again and again with his fists until the man stumbled backwards over a chair and fell to the floor. Robert had followed him, throwing 3, 4 more hard fists to his face before feeling himself restrained and pulled away. At first he had been angry that Charles Blake would stop him, clad in his pajamas and pulling Robert away from his target. But he had quickly realized that it was for the best. He could have killed him. He wouldn't have stopped, and it scared him. It was a long time before he even realized Cora wasn't in the room anymore, and then Tom had appeared and explained her injury and collapse – by the time he looked down at his hand he knew he had gone too far. He couldn't see her the way he was. He couldn't see anyone.

Clearing his throat he turned so that he could reach her with his good hand, "Cora … I…" he began reaching for her hand and praying to god she let him take it.

"No, Robert … I have to say something." She looked down where he had taken her hand and felt the tears building once more. Looking up quickly before she lost her nerve she spoke, "It is all my fault and I am so sorry, I am so sorry to do this to you. To us … and I need you to know that I never … I would never … I didn't want …" she felt the first tears fall and hit their hand where it was clasped together. She looked down, placing her free hand on top of their joined ones before adding, "I love you so much and I am sorry, Robert. So sorry."

Robert felt the tears behind his own eyes and he drew a quick breath to keep them back. She didn't need his tears, she didn't need his weakness. It was his job to be strong; it was his job to make this all right, because no matter what she said it had all begun with him. His foolishness, his taking her for granted that had caused this to happen. He couldn't bare this. He couldn't bare that she blamed herself, that she had been forced to turn to someone else to feel as though she mattered, that she had been forced to endure Bricker's kiss … he wanted to go find him and pummel him again, he wanted to break something, he wanted to have things under his control … the way they used to be. But more than that, more than anything he wanted Cora to look at him with those piercing blue eyes and see that she mattered to him. That she was important.

"Cora, don't. Don't say that. Please. It is me. I have failed you … and for that … for that I can never tell you how sorry I am." He looked at her, eyes cast down, tears falling softly against their hands and his heart broke. "You …" his voice caught and he took a deep steadying breath, "I have taken you for granted Cora, I have been so caught up feeling busy and important and trying to navigate the new managing of the estate that I stopped trying and I can never explain to you how deeply I regret that. How sorry I am. It's, you've, you are always there you see. You are like the sun. You are so constant and so beautiful and bright and like the sun, I just assumed you would always be there. It wasn't until my world started to get dark and cold that I realized … I was the idiot blocking out the sun."

Cora let out a surprised laugh at his words and looked up into his eyes. She hadn't looked at his eyes at such close proximity since it had all happened and this close she could see the results of his fight with Bricker. His left eye was covered in a mottled bruise, a slight red cut at the corner. He had a half inch graze on the lower lip, she reached up gingerly and brushed her fingers across it and watched as he closed his eyes in response. Her heart fluttered and she took a breath as she moved her hand gently across his cheek and up to his wounded eye, brushing her thumb across the bruising softly, wishing her touch could heal him.

"If I am the sun, then I want you to be the sky … because the only place the sun makes any sense is with the sky." Letting her hand trail back down his cheek along his throat she bought it to the back of his neck and pulled him close to her, pressing her forehead against his and taking in his nearness. "I am so sorry you got hurt. I wish I could take it away for you." She whispered, their closeness demanding a reverence, their apologies finding their purpose. She felt his body shift as he scooted further on the bed and she let go of his hand, bringing her hand up to touch his face.

"I … " she began, but was stopped as he leaned against her placing his lips softly on hers.

"No more." He said softly, pulling back slightly. "No more apologies. No more blocking out the sun." the hand on his cheek felt the warmth of his single tear as it slid down his face, then she felt nothing but the gentleness of his kiss, the tender touch of his hand brushing her hair from her face, the ginger movement as he slid in bed next her, and the flip in her stomach as her body responded quickly to his nearness, to his body, to him.

As their kisses became more heated and their breathing more labored Robert pulled away.

"We should go to sleep my darling. Dr. Clarkson told you to rest." Robert was torn. He wanted to make love to his wife, slow and all encompassing. To seal their apology with their bodies, to remind each other of their union and their bond. But at the same time, they were both nursing injuries, minor ones, but injuries none the less.

"And how do you know that?" Cora asked with a smirk as she continued the unbuttoning if his shirt and nuzzled her lips against the base of his throat. She needed to be close to him, to return to the rhythm of their marriage, to connect with him on the most carnal of levels and lose herself beneath him, with him.

"Do you think I would not ask Dr. Clarkson about your condition?" he let out a long slow sigh of satisfaction mingled with restraint as she freed his shirt and slid her hands across his chest. Skin to skin. "Cora … your concussion …" he protested weakly as she continued to place soft kisses against his throat.

"And you have broken knuckles." She replied between kisses. Her breath hot against his skin, her hands tracing patterns along his chest and sliding lower.

Groaning as her hands found his pants and begun to unfasten he spoke again, "Cora …" his voice was unsteady, "I really think this is against medical … advice. You can't get dizzy."

Carefully she moved her body, guiding his with her hands until he lay above her, her head cradled on the plush cushions. She slid his shirt off his body as his lips found her neck. She sighed happily.

"I wont get dizzy, as long as you are my anchor Robert." She breathed hotly against his ear as she whispered. Pulling away from her neck Robert placed his hand on the side of her face, tracing a gentle finger down the delicate features of her profile, down the cleft of her neck, the hollow of her throat, past the curve of her breast, and making a path to the heat between her thighs … upon which she gasped happily, biting her lower lip as he moved his fingers between her legs.

"Are you quite sure?" He asked, his voice raspy with the effort of control.

"Yes, Oh yes Robert … I am quite sure." She pulled her hands back to his neck and pressed her lips to his … "If I am the sun, then you are the sky …" she whispered against his lips. And together, they lit the night with fireworks.

_**** This was not my original ending. I kind of lost my way a little after the last episode aired and I saw how things really went down. I am so excited to see what happens next in the real DA. This is simply one idea, that we know is not what really happened – but maybe parts of it could happen. Like them making up! Thanks for your reviews.****_


End file.
